The Knight Templar
by massivelyattacked
Summary: Memories of Ferelden haunt Cullen as he stands at his post in the Gallows.  No longer a one shot...
1. Duty

**Upon reading the opening chapter to a story about Cullen by another fantastic author on this site, I was inspired to bring to life my own version of the templar. For now, this is a one shot, but if it calls to me again, I may expand upon this. Hope you enjoy…**

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><p>How many years have passed since he last saw her face? And yet, the elf still haunted his dreams. Trapped in the demonic cage for days…weeks? She came to him night after night; luring him with the lilt in her voice, her timid smile. She even began to hiccup like she used to when she felt nervous around him. But it was never her. The demons had…entered his mind. Sought out the one temptation that he would succumb to. His fascination with the young mage had almost been his undoing. He was no longer sure how he could say no to her if she returned once more. And she did. She returned to him the very next night. But she was no longer an illusion. No longer a trick in his mind, conjured by the devil itself. She was real, standing before him while he languished in his cage.<p>

Cullen had confessed his infatuation then. She never flinched, as though she knew all along. Had he been that obvious? He was lucky the Knight Commander had never noticed – or that if he did, he did not express concern. He never once faltered in his devotions, even when he was selected to be present at her Harrowing. He always suspected that was meant to test him more than her. He prayed to the Maker the night before that day. He prayed that she would not succumb to the temptations the demons would place in front of her. He prayed for her to wake with no passengers. But he did not pray for the strength to strike her down had she not met the challenge with success. He wanted to, but could not bring himself to pray to be the one to end her life if she failed. What would he have done if she failed? And he didn't kill her? His life as a templar would have ended abruptly, unable to fulfill his duty. But what then if he did? Could he have lived with himself, knowing he would have been the cause of destruction of such innocence? When it was all over, he returned to his quarters, removed his armour and fell on to his bed. He pulled the covers over his head and wept. Back then, he didn't know the reason for his tears. Was it for something that could never be? For something that _should_ never be? He still had no answers.

Yet the night she returned, he began to understand that there could never be anything between them more than passing glances and whispers behind their backs. She had looked pained as she stood in front of him – cut off from him by Uldred's barrier. The recognition of her as reality nearly crushed him, and he was forced to push impure thoughts to the back of his mind. This was no longer the demon reaching its spiny fingers into his thoughts, and she deserved more than what he considered. But her words in defense of the mages stopped all thoughts for something between them. She would never back down from protecting her brethren. And he could never turn his back on his vows…his duty. Her words made his stomach wretch…that she wanted to save her fellow mages. That she would never side with him. She couldn't.

When the cage melted into nothingness, he knew Uldred had been destroyed. But was she safe? Would she exit the Harrowing Chamber? When she finally did come through the door, assisting the First Enchanter down the stairs, exhaustion covered her face. Her deep crimson hair which had been pulled back before entering the chamber was now hanging in her face, wet and tangled from the battle. Wynne, the Circle mage who had arrived with her relieved her of Irving at the bottom of the stairs and she staggered a little. The blond, heavily armoured man who was also in her party caught her before she fell. She looked up at him and smiled her shy smile, and it somehow had grown since he last saw it. A twinge of jealousy flickered within, as he noticed the man held her a little too long…a little too close. Was there something there? Something he could never have? He tried desperately to not stare in her direction, but feared it would be the last he would look upon her. And it was. She left the tower, with the promise of assistance from the mages, and never returned. And when the Archdemon lay slain on the roof of Fort Drakon, all voices rose up in honour of the Hero of Ferelden.

That was so many years ago, but he thought it as it were yesterday. Perhaps that was the reason that this new mage had felt so familiar to him. Hawke was her name. She was well known throughout the city for her many deeds of service, but few saw her for what she really was. Few knew of her arcane abilities. As a templar – nay, as Knight Captain of the Circle of Kirkwall – he was tasked with knowing the scent of a mage in his city. She carried a bladed staff, perhaps to throw of those with less training than he had received. But he saw through the ruse. Despite the devotion to his duty, he stayed his hand when it came to this woman. Partially because she was doing so much good for the city. Partially because she reminded him of the elf he had once wanted so badly to confess everything he thought to.

The first time he met Hawke in the outskirts of the city, he had been tracking down a possessed templar. She assisted without question, never once casting a spell to draw his attention. But he knew. Her fierce defense of the mages, and obvious dislike of the templars felt so much like that of the elf. Only a mage could speak such words to a templar – only this woman could speak such words to him. He held back from detaining her, and from admitting that he was aware of her true abilities. She looked grateful…hopeful even, but never as though she had gotten away with anything.

The woman now came to him as a friend…and a confidante. He spoke to her as an equal, and despite their feelings for their respective factions, their conversations were never heated. A sort of understanding had been reached between them, an unspoken truce. He spoke to her of conviction and duty…she spoke to him of freedom and independence. She thought it odd that one with such dedication to his Order would allow her to roam without consequence, but there was something in his eyes when he spoke to her. A longing that she would never comprehend. She thought to ask him at times, but preferred to let sleeping mabari lie.

From his post in the Gallows, he would watch her. The red tinge of her hair always made his stomach flip at first sight…at least until he remembered that it was not the elf. It would never be the elf. He began to notice her with a certain companion. He assumed it was the healer that was rumoured to be in Darktown. She traveled with him everywhere. It was more than obvious that something existed between the two. The smile she smiled at him…it reminded Cullen of the smile the elf gave to her companion that night at the bottom of the stairs to the Harrowing Chamber. He sighed. He longed for something he could never have.

This was the Maker's punishment for his impure thoughts of the elf in the Circle Tower. He would be forced to live out his days in Kirkwall, at arm's length from the one woman who would never allow him to forget about what he could not have. Perhaps one day he would no longer allow her to roam free in the city after all…but today was not that day. Today, she would meander through the Gallows square, fingertips brushing the hand of her healer gently. And Cullen would close his eyes and imagine the halls of the Kinloch Hold. The days before her Harrowing. The days when duty was easy. When faith was untested. Before his thoughts were tainted by the demons. Before he no longer believed in love.


	2. Honour

**So I decided that this story was worth continuing...a few little ideas popped into my head, I put them down in print and there you have it. Enjoy...reviews are adored. :)**

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><p><em>Honour<em>

The Gallows was abuzz with activity. Circle mages hurried about to and fro in preparation for the upcoming excitement – the Grey Wardens of Ferelden were in Kirkwall on a recruitment mission. Their ranks decimated by the betrayal at Ostagar; their recruitment pool diminished greatly by the blight. The fact that so many refugees had fled the country and landed in the Free Marches, especially the city of chains was not lost on the Wardens, and a strategy was hatched to bring some of the expatriates home within their Order. They were not fastidious about who they inducted into their ranks; thieves, murderers, liars. All could fight the darkspawn just as well as the most noble in the land, sometimes even better. It was no surprise that they would come to the Circle to seek out gifted mages who may be of some merit to them.

Naturally this was something that did not please Knight Commander Meredith in the least. The woman was unimpressed with the idea and she barked orders to her Knight Captain to 'deal with the wretched spawnslayers and leave me be'. The door to her office had slammed so hard that a framed painting on the wall of Orsino's office clattered to the ground, snapping in half. Cullen sighed as he looked apologetically at the First Enchanter as he gathered up the pieces of the broken painting.

"I suppose it's nice to know that we mages are not the only beings that can provoke such ire from your fearless leader," Orsino muttered in the templar's direction.

Cullen, unsure of how to respond to the elf, merely stood in the doorway to his office. He watched as Orsino placed the pieces of the frame on his desk, careful not to tear the parchment where the print was painted.

"I suspect you will be accompanying me to the meeting of enchanters," the elf said to him.

" Yes, First Enchanter," he replied. "Meredith would see me do so. And again when you meet with the apprentices and mages themselves."

"Ah, of course," he replied. "You'll want to know who we feel has the most potential for joining the Wardens so that you may ensure they are disinclined to meet with them this afternoon."

"Not at all, Orsino," Cullen said, annoyed at the mage's inference. "If any of the mages are worthy of the Wardens' status, I, for one, would be glad to see them inducted."

Images of the elven mage flooded Cullen's thoughts…he never thought that she had it in her to become a Warden. He perhaps should have known better, considering his interest in her seemed to be more than a passing fancy back in the Kinloch Hold. He remembered that day, as First Enchanter Irving stood weakly at the main foyer of the Circle Tower. Promising her the assistance of the mages, as Knight Commander Greagoir observed warily. Her small face and soft features smiling imperceptibly to one who was not paying attention – but to Cullen, it was a vision he took in to make last a lifetime. He knew he would never see her again. Her eyes fell upon him – the broken man from the magical prison; the man who could never fulfill his own desires when they conflicted directly with his own duties. They met his eyes so momentarily; darting away before hers registered the pain of a former life.

"Your face tells me that you knew the Hero of Ferelden from your time at the Kinloch Hold," Orsino stated bluntly, interrupting the man's thoughts. Cullen, embarrassed that his facial expressions had betrayed him, nodded curtly.

"Yes," he said. "She was…quite an unassuming girl during her time in the Tower. I never expected she would have caught the eye of the Grey Warden that visited."

"Wardens have a talent for recognizing their own," Orsino said. "Even the smallest of sparks will seize their attention."

The mage looked at him carefully, with the belief that the templar was not letting on to something. He had a suspicion that the man knew the woman of which he spoke more than he admitted.

"Right," Cullen replied hastily. "We should be off to your meeting with the enchanters." He stepped out of the doorway to allow the elf through and followed him through the hallways of the Templar Hall to the entry gates of the Gallows proper.

The former prison lived up to its reputation, with its foreboding statues and carvings in the halls and courtyards. The Circle Tower in Ferelden may not have had places where its mages could step outside for a few brief moments of fresh air, but it certainly lacked in the frightening, oppressive imagery that was abundantly found in Kirkwall's Circle. The dark rocks that formed its walls were hauled in from the excavation of the Kirkwall cliffs, when slaves of the Tevinter Imperium toiled until their deaths to carve the sea corridor into the city. The prison itself was no more airy for the mages as it was for the slaves – it could be argued that the mages here were just as locked away as the Tevinter slaves so many years prior.

Slivers of light slid into the corridors from the courtyard as Cullen and Orsino strode past the thin openings in the stone. Simple blood red rugs ran the length of the passageways, cushioning their footsteps from the unforgiving rock floors below. The passage opened up into a large meeting room, suitable for the small gathering of enchanters that was to occur. They were not the first to arrive, as several enchanters sat around a large rectangular table; three templars standing at the corners of the room…ever vigilant. The enchanters acknowledged their superior as he entered the room, and he nodded courteously to them. Shortly after, the remaining attendees of the meeting arrived and Orsino began to address them. As they discussed the members of the Circle they believed should be brought to the attention of the Wardens, Cullen's mind began to wander.

He remembered being assigned to the apprentice floors. She would walk by and glance at him smiling. Even when he was fully armoured, helmet and all. She still knew exactly who he was – unless she smiled at _all_ the templars that way. But he often watched her as she strode down the halls, and her eyes never sparkled until she made it to his post. He used to blush furiously, and was thankful for the tin can on his head for its shielding of his face. It was bad enough that several of his brothers had caught him staring at her that one day – and never let him forget that. They dogged him mercilessly about the incident. Threatened to expose his infatuation. Even blackmailed him on several occasions – he was so fearful that he would be expelled from the Templar Order by the Knight Commander, Greagoir. He didn't know what he'd have done if he were banished. He was meant to be a templar. Destined for this duty.

His thoughts drifted to her Harrowing again. He nearly tripped over himself to rush to her side as she collapsed to the ground upon entering the Fade. But he steeled himself, standing guard over her body for the entirety of her test. As the minutes ticked away, he felt beads of sweat forming at his brow…running down his neck. He was thankful again for the helmet that hid his emotions away from the others in the room. She moved erratically at several points during the experience…he gripped his longsword tightly at those points, fearful that he would be obliged to strike her down with it. But she eventually settled back into a relaxed state until at last, she awoke. She sat up, somewhat dazed by what she had just gone through. Cullen moved to assist her to her feet, but Greagoir stepped in his way, reminding him that his primary duty was to remain watchful. Instead, Irving approached her and helped her to her feet, as two Tranquil mages assisted in leading her out of the room. Greagoir nodded his approval to Cullen as she left his sight, and dismissed him from the Harrowing Chamber. He all but ran back to his quarters.

He had heard the rumours that she had fallen back asleep after her Harrowing and did not wake for several hours. He was given that night to himself – to 'reflect upon the experience of the day', Greagoir had said. And reflect he did…he could do nothing but run the event over and over in his mind, wondering what could have been. Eventually he decided that dwelling upon the could haves and might haves was not a useful exercise, and continued to weep silently under the covers of his lonely bed. When he awoke the next day, he was posted to the floor with the mage quarters…where her quarters would be since completing her test. He thought it some sick joke…plotted out by the senior templar ranks – continuing to test his duty and honour. At least if he remained on the apprentice floors, he would only see her when she visited the library – and even then he could likely have avoided the girl. He reluctantly stood in the corridor, as far from the room she was to be in as possible. And he prayed that she would not recognize him…that she would just walk by when she finally arrived.

"Cullen!" she had cried out when she saw him, a stack of tomes in her arms. Her crimson hair cascaded gently, framing her face. The tips of her ears peeked out from the strands.

He groaned inwardly but did not ignore her. "Hello…"

"Take your helmet off silly…you know I hate talking to you when you've got that tin can on your head." He couldn't help but smile at the elf then. He removed the helmet and placed it on the floor beside him. "There…that's so much better!"

"You did well yesterday," he said.

"Did you ever have any doubt that I would come through?" she questioned with a sparkle in her wide brown eyes. He hadn't wanted to admit that he had so many doubts, so he just shook his head. "I know you were there too. I'm glad it would have been you…you know, if something went wrong."

His mouth fell open a little, stunned by her statement. "I…what?"

"I wouldn't have wanted someone else to be the one to have to…do that," she continued. "I don't like a lot of your…friends."

"They…aren't really my friends," he said. "I trained with them…but I don't consider them…"

"I know," she chimed in, bubbly. "But you were still the right one to be there for me. I know that you have a kind soul. Before I went into the Fade, I found some solace knowing that if I wasn't to come out, at least it would have been a gentle and caring man to end it, rather than some of these other jerks."

"I, uh…I really don't know…I…" he stammered.

"Oh Cullen," she cried out, "you're cute when you stutter! Well, I'm off to my new quarters! Perhaps I shall see you later this evening at dinner?" She smiled at him brilliantly, jumping up to peck him on the cheek. He felt his neck and face flush with embarrassment. Looking around, hoping no one saw the display, he quickly grabbed his helmet off of the ground and placed it back on his head. She skipped off happily to her move into the new room, looking back and waving at him before she disappeared around the curved wall of the corridor. _Oh Maker_, he thought to himself. _This girl will be the death of me…_

"Ser Cullen!" Orsino called out to him, jolting him back into the present day. "It is time to move on to meet with our mages."

"Of course, First Enchanter," he replied.

The two headed to the main meeting hall of the Gallows prison, followed by several of the enchanters who attended the previous meeting. When they arrived at the hall, a number of apprentices and harrowed mages were already in attendance, along with many templar handlers. In the corner of large room, a few unfamiliar people stood closely together. The Wardens had arrived and were preparing for the meeting. Orsino motioned to Cullen that they should go to meet with them, and he followed the elf towards the corner.

As they approached, one of the Wardens noticed them and turned fully to face them. It was the Marcher Warden, Stroud. He must have been meeting with the Grey of Ferelden to assist them with their recruitment, and perhaps complete some of his own.

"Ah, Orsino," the man said. "It is good to see you again."

"Likewise Stroud," Orsino responded. He looked towards the other Wardens who had gathered in the corner. "These must be our guests from Ferelden."

Stroud nodded. He introduced the three men present and stepped aside. As he moved, Orsino could see one more Warden, crouched over in the corner, rifling through a pack. A mop of red hair sat atop an obviously female, obviously elven figure. She stood up and smiled at him, greeting him respectfully.

"And this is Warden Commander Surana."

Cullen had not been paying attention. At the mention of her name…the elf's name…he froze, too frightened to turn around to face the woman – to see that it was actually her. Grudgingly he turned slowly in the direction of the Wardens. His eyes were to the ground…he could see silverite armour covering the small framed woman – boots…greaves…chainmail pieces hanging from the breastplate that bore griffons upon it…gauntlets covering up arms than hung loosely at her side, small hand gripping the helm of the Commander of the Grey. And finally, his eyes met hers. He could not move…could not speak. He could barely breathe. He was locked in non-being. And then she broke the silence.

"Hello Cullen."


	3. Sacrifice

_Sacrifice_

Cullen wondered just how long he stood there, dumbfounded. It was long enough for the First Enchanter to recognize he would require some time alone with the Warden Commander of Ferelden, and Orsino promptly pulled Stroud off towards the front of the room with the other Wardens present.

Finally, Cullen braved the silence that had settled over him and opened his mouth, praying for the words to find their way through his lips.

"I was…not expecting to see you…here in Kirkwall," he stuttered. Those were _not_ the words he had hoped would become audible.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" she said, throwing her hand on to her hip and cocking her head. She apparently had hoped for something different as well.

"I…I'm sorry," he said, lowering his eyes to the ground.

"Oh Cullen," she said, stepping forward into his view. "You are still as inhibited as you always were. And here I thought we might be able to have an actual conversation this day."

"It is nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "I've just been thrown off guard seeing you here."

"Well, I never meant to cause you distress over my appearance here," she said, offering him a tiny smile. "It is nice to see you." Her attention was pulled towards the front of the room, where Stroud was motioning for her to approach. They were ready to begin addressing the assembled mages. "Duty calls!" she said cheerfully, shrugging. "Perhaps we can spend some time together later. I would like to hear all about what you've been up to in Kirkwall."

Without thinking, he nodded. "Yes, uh…of course," he said. "Although I'm sure you have many more stories to tell than I."

"Ah yes," she groaned, "the 'Hero of Ferelden' thing, eh?"

Surprising even himself, a smile forced itself on to his face in response to how nonchalant she referred to herself in that way.

"Why, do my eyes deceive me? Cullen, you have teeth!" she cried out in surprise. "I don't believe you _ever_ showed them to me back in the Circle Tower. Are they new?"

He shook his head, smirking a little at her playfulness. "You haven't changed a bit. Still full of jokes, after all these years."

"It must be that you just bring out the best in me! I've changed more than I'd like to admit," she stated bluntly. "But perhaps we should save that discussion for later." She began to head towards the front of the room, but stopped for a second. She turned back to face him, looking at him curiously for a moment. "It _is_ good to see you again Cullen." He remained silent, nodding to her as she spun back around and hurried off.

His brain stopped processing any relevant thoughts. He remained glued where he stood, as his eyes did not leave the elf's small frame while she sashayed between the groups of mages and templars in the hall. Despite her size, she commanded the attention of those she passed. As she approached the front, the mages began to find seats and calm settled over the hall. Orsino introduced the Wardens briefly, and they all took their turns speaking, but Cullen wasn't able to focus enough to listen. He was finally able to move so his back was to the wall, but aside from that one deliberate action, his only other effort continued to be watching her.

She stepped forth and spoke to the mages present of their worth and value as the humans and elves that they were. That she also rose from humble beginnings in the Circle. Cullen didn't notice the shuffling of the templars throughout the room as she discussed her recent history. They were visibly nervous at the excitement that buzzed throughout the room as the mages considered the possibility of freedom – a relative term as a Grey Warden, but freedom nonetheless. The woman was all but galvanizing the group to attempt a coup at that moment, though it was certainly not her intention.

Cullen listened to her intently, but her words barely sunk in. It was enough to simply hear her voice as it danced throughout the air, echoing in the corners of the hall, and kissing his ears with its familiar sweetness. By the Maker, how _did_ she do this to him? It was as if he would be willing to sacrifice all of his vows for a simple taste of her lips…to feel her arms wrapped around him… And then memories from the Kinloch Hold came flooding back to him, and he remembered that it would never be. Mages and templars…can't be…

When it was over, he stood silently watching over the room. Most of the mages exited the hall – complacent with their station in life. A few remained however, interested in giving the Wardens the chance to observe their talents. Orsino and some of the Senior Enchanters spoke with Stroud and the other Wardens, pointing out certain gifted mages that would be well suited for recruitment. And she stood proudly off to the side, as some of the newly Harrowed mages flitted about around her, asking questions about what it was like to slay the Archdemon…what was life like back in the Circle Tower for her…what is life like being free…

He saw her glance over at him while she spoke to them – her face displayed some sort of sadness briefly. He wondered what it was she thought of when he saw that. There were so many memories from the Tower; it could have been any one of them. Or it could have been only one of them…the night she returned; forced to hunt the shells of her former friends. And of the templars who watched over them. He shuddered at the memories – they always sent ice to his very core. He closed his eyes, removing the gauntlet from his hand and rubbing his forehead roughly. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he had missed yet another opportunity – she was being ushered out of the room by Orsino.

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><p>The courtyard at the Templar Hall was quite busy that afternoon. The view afforded to him from the small window in his office showed Cullen that the excitement from the Wardens' visit had not dissipated from earlier in the day. He stepped away from the window and slumped into his chair, exhausted. He normally would have returned to his post in the Gallows courtyard by that time of the day, but Meredith had given him leave to complete a report on their visitors. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he was unable to do so. She shouldn't have consumed his thoughts in that way…not now. Not after he had pushed her out of his mind so often for so long.<p>

"Why do I insist on doing this to myself?" he groaned to himself. "She will be out of my life once again before I know it. Pull yourself together, Cullen!"

A knock sounded at the door. It made him jump a little, and he took a deep breath before responding.

"Enter," he said.

The door opened slowly. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized the small head peeking in the door was that of the Warden Commander. He jumped to his feet as she looked at him and smiled.

"I'm sorry Cullen," she said. "I don't mean to interrupt. Is this a bad time?" She peeked around the room, a puzzled look upon her face.

"No, of course not," he said, stepping out from behind his desk. "Please…come in."

She entered the small room and continued to look around. "So…where are you hiding your guest?"

"Guest?" he repeated slowly.

"You weren't just talking to someone in here?" she asked.

"Oh…oh, no. I was…" he started. "I was just muttering to myself."

"Ah, I see," she said. "Well, if you need to continue the conversation, I can certainly come back later." She let out a small chuckle when she noticed the blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Yes. Well," he said. "This is certainly embarrassing."

"Don't be embarrassed, Cullen," she insisted. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit. You've seemed rather…anxious earlier."

He blinked a few times before shaking his head and pulling a chair out for her to sit in. "Please…have a seat."

She nodded, placing her staff and pack on the floor behind her. Cullen moved towards the door of his office, closing it quietly. He pulled the chair next to her out and lowered himself into it.

"I suppose I was anxious," he admitted.

"I think you still are," she said. "Is my reputation as a ferocious warrior getting to you?"

"The rumours are most impressive," he said. "Are they true?"

"Mostly," she replied. She cocked her head to the side. "Hard to believe the little Surana girl from the Circle is the savior of Ferelden…of Thedas even, yes?"

"Honestly?" he questioned.

"Of course," she replied.

"It's not really that surprising," he said. "I suppose your quiet nature doesn't lend to the grand tales that are told of you, but of your talent, I've no doubt. I watched you master many a spell with ease. You were always very in control of your abilities. It's not a shock that you were able to translate what you learned at the Circle into such skills in the outside world."

"Why, thank you," she said, smiling warmly at him. "I didn't know you had paid such careful attention."

He sat silently for a few minutes. Mustering up the courage to finally let an admission float to the surface, he gulped quietly. "Really? You…never noticed? I often thought I was being a bit obvious."

She looked at him curiously. "Obvious? I'm not sure I…" she started, stopping suddenly. Her thoughts returned to that night in the Tower when he told her of his infatuation. She had forced herself to forget about it for so many years, as so much else had transpired. "Ah."

His heart sank a little. Her unawareness could only mean one thing: the yearning was completely one-sided.

"Yes, well…"

"Cullen?"

"Yes?"

"I never forgot all the little things you did for me back at the Tower."

"I…I didn't really do anything for you," he said sadly.

"You don't know how much it meant to have you around to talk to," she continued. "You were the one consistency in my life there. I could always count on you being outside of the apprentice quarters…you know…in case I had trouble with some of the other templars."

_Or mages_, he thought to himself. They were merciless with her, those hateful young girls. She was one of the few elves that were in the Tower for many years. And even the elves rarely interacted with her.

"There were many times that I stayed in the library to study, simply because I knew you would be posted there," she admitted. "It was comforting to know that I had…a friend in you."

"You thought me your friend?" he said, surprised by her admission.

"I had hoped that you felt it so as well," she said. "Was I wrong in that hope?"

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I…had hoped that we could be more than friends…one day." He refused to lift his eyes to meet her glance.

She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees, reaching to place one of her small hands on his left knee. He focused on the hand, staring at it, as though it were what was addressing him.

"Cullen," she began. "You know that we could have never been more than that."

He nodded despondently.

"You're a templar…I'm a mage. Worse yet, I'm an elf. To be honest, I was more than surprised you'd even speak to me. Sometimes I thought that your…nervousness around me was more due to those factors."

"It was never about that," he replied. "I never knew what to say to you. I wanted to tell you what I was really thinking, but…but I knew I'd always end up the fool if I did." He pulled away from her hand and jumped up. Quickly, he circled around the desk towards the window. He still would not meet her gaze.

She slowly rose and followed him quietly towards the window. When she stood directly behind him, she lifted her hand up to place it on his shoulder. He shuddered; glad now for having removed his armour when he arrived at his office.

"You could never have been the fool, Cullen," she said quietly. "I only wanted acceptance. You accepted me. I would never have dared to ask for more."

He turned to face her, and the hand on his shoulder drew a line across his back as he turned, before falling along his arm back to her side.

"Maker, I wanted you to ask for more," he said. His face contorted into pained creases, as he finally looked into her eyes.

"You and I both know how that would have ended. You made your vows, Cullen. You had your duty. I was your charge," she said. "Nothing more."

He nodded, dropping his eyes. "Perhaps…in another lifetime…you and I…" he offered.

She closed her eyes, frowning. "Perhaps…" She softly placed her small hand at his jaw, stroking her thumb across his cheek. She stood on her toes and brought her lips to the other side of his face, kissing him softly on the cheek. As she pulled away from him and lowered down from her toes, she felt his hand fall gently at the back of her head, resting at her neck. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. His other arm wrapped around her back. Hesitating, she nervously returned the embrace, desperately hoping it would not evolve into something deeper…more passionate. Yet he simply stood with her in his arms – an action he would never have dared back in the Circle in Ferelden. He felt himself begin to quiver, as the emotions he buried inside himself for so long threatened to escape. She felt it too, squeezing him tighter for a moment, but then easing back and out of the embrace. As he lifted his head from atop hers, she looked up at him to see some semblance of peace upon his face.

Cullen stood silently as she stepped away from him and retrieved her pack and staff from against the wall. She walked to the door and began to exit the room.

"Wait," he said quickly, his voice barely a whisper. "Would…would it be forward of me to take you up on your offer from earlier?"

She inclined her head slightly, indicating her uncertainty over his request.

"You said you thought it would be nice to hear what I've been up to in Kirkwall," he said, shrugging.

A sincere and happy smile spread across her face.

"I would like nothing more than to do that, Cullen," she said.

"I shall send for you then," he replied. She nodded and turned to head out of the door.

As the door closed behind her, Cullen once again collapsed into his chair and began to cry. He wept for his lost brothers and sisters. He wept for a past he thought he knew, and a future he never would. He wept for his unrequited love.

And as she leaned against the door to his office with her head inclined against its hard wooden frame, listening to the sounds within, a single tear fell, representing the sacrifice she made by not admitting to him that she had always felt the same. That she had always loved him. To have admitted that to him would have broken the man…it was better this way.


	4. Acceptance

**Yup...I've come to the end of this tale. Hope it worked out the way it should have...I think I'm happy with it.**

**[insert standard disclaimer here]**

* * *

><p><em>Acceptance<em>

"What'll it be, sweetheart?"

Cullen's head jerked up from focusing on the wooden bar in front of him. His eyes landed on the woman in front of him – or rather, her _cleavage_ – which was quite hard to miss when he gave it another thought.

"Oh," he responded, "just an ale."

The woman wandered down the bar a little to fetch his request. When she returned, she leaned forward until her mouth was near his ear.

"Don't worry, Ser Templar," she whispered. "Your secret's safe with me."

He pulled back, shocked at her words. "My secret?"

"Oh, I know about you religious folk," she replied. "With your vows and the like. But sometimes you just need to get your jollies. Just like regular folk."

"I'm not here for jollies," Cullen corrected her. "I just…needed a drink. Away from…well…anyone I know."

The woman snorted. "Honey…you've got to go a lot further than the Blooming Rose to get away from anyone _you_ know." She nodded behind him and he turned around on his stool. He saw three men – Templars – sitting at a table, fawning over a young woman. Obviously one of the prostitutes from the establishment.

He sighed loudly. He couldn't fault them…not entirely. There was more than one occasion where he'd have liked to have broken his vows to be with a woman…any woman. _No_, he thought to himself, _only__her._

He continued the scan the room before turning back to his drink, but something caught his eye again. Rather, some_one_. He froze…it was her. What in the Maker's name was she doing in a place like this? He supposed that he couldn't say much about it, considering he was in the same place. But she was…she was the Hero of Ferelden. What would such an upstanding individual need with a place like the Blooming Rose?

_I can't go to her. She can't see me here._

He turned back into his drink, deciding to down it as quickly as he could and then slip out unnoticed.

With less than two gulps left, one of the servers brought another full mug of ale to him.

"Courtesy of that little fireweed over there," the server said, pointing in the direction of the Warden Commander herself. When he turned to look in the direction, she had spun around on the bench she sat on and was facing him with a smile. She held up the mug she had been nursing and signaled for him to join her.

He groaned. How could he possibly face her in this place? Yet he reluctantly finished his first mug and picked up the second, heading slowly over to where she sat.

"Cullen!" she said. "I'm so glad you decided to leave your post this evening." She started to stand as he approached, but he motioned for her to stay seated.

"Please," he started, "don't get up on my account."

She smiled at him. "Well then, my good man, have a seat!"

As he did, she began to introduce her companions – all Wardens – Stroud, from earlier in the day; Nathaniel Howe – "From Ferelden," she said, "his family…he's from Amaranthine"; and several others. He never caught their names. It wasn't as though he wasn't paying attention, but…she just…had that effect on him. He could remember every word she'd said to him, but only if it meant anything. These Wardens – honourable as they were – didn't mean much to him. They would be gone in a day or so, and he'd likely never see them again. There was no sense in paying them much mind.

They continued their conversation, asking him questions or including him where they could. She would laugh at the silliest things – but oh, her laugh. If he'd done nothing else in his life, it would have been enough to just sit with her and listen to that laugh for eternity. He heard mostly stifled giggles and half-caught outbursts back in the Circle Tower – she dare not draw too much attention to herself there. But here…she was free…unburdened. Her laughter became like music. And the more she laughed, the more he smiled. She continued to glance at him from the side, genuinely happy to see him having what appeared to be a good time. He shifted uncomfortably, but only a few times. He had almost even forgotten where he was once or twice, boisterously describing one of his adventures outside of Kirkwall.

And she liked it. She enjoyed seeing him almost free, for once. The brief conversation from earlier in the day had her worried. When he hadn't sent for her as he said he would, she became more concerned. But she wasn't about to dwell on what that meant. She learned long ago that dwelling on the past leant to missing what was coming from ahead.

After several hours, the group decided that they had enough to drink and would head back to their accommodations for the night. As they exited the Blooming Rose, the Warden Commander advised her fellows to go on ahead. Cullen's eyes darted from Warden to Warden, trying to gauge their reaction to such a command from their leader. None of them seemed overly concerned, but he could not translate what that would have meant.

She spun around to face him again. "Cullen, would you like me to walk you to the Gallows? It's quite a nice night, and I haven't any other plans to keep me occupied."

"I would think that it's more appropriate for me to walk you to your destination for the evening," he stated. "And are you not staying in the Gallows guest rooms anyhow?"

"Oh, most definitely not," she replied. "They're liable to make me Tranquil during my stay."

"I see you've heard the rumours," he said.

"I think they're more than rumours."

He shifted his weight nervously. "I have not been party to any such thing," he said defensively.

"No need to worry, Cullen," she replied quickly. "I know that there are many things beyond your control here."

"If I could stop what goes on—"

"Cullen," she said softly, placing her hand upon his arm. "You don't have to be so defensive. I understand. Do you think that I forget how you were just as trapped by the Circle as I was?"

"You...you knew?" he asked, incredulous to her observational skills. Most mages simply thought the Templars their enemy – couldn't imagine that there were those who had no choice once they made their decision to join the Order. He regretted for a brief moment that he felt to his core how he was meant to be a Templar. That he couldn't see his life down any other path. Even one that would have been walked at her side. He was meant for this life – but he was still held by their chains...still a prisoner to their duty.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not back then. Not when I was in the Circle. But after...I met a man who had trained as a Templar, but escaped those binds. He was a...friend. Told me many things that I'm more than certain the Order...and the Chantry...would be unhappy to hear had been made known."

She started to walk the streets, and he followed closely.

"I remember," he said. "He was with you when you returned to the Circle...to save it. The...friend."

She nodded. "Yes. Alistair."

"Wait, Alistair?" he asked, stopping her. "The King?"

She nodded again and started walking again.

"So you...and King Alistair? The King of Ferelden, King Alistair?"

"There is no need to be jealous Cullen," she advised politely. "Alistair and I..." She trailed off, uncertain of how to explain things. "We shared some moments. But they did not last. He is a trusted friend...no more, no less."

"I see," he replied. "I...apologize. For my reaction."

"You're forgiven," she said with a smile, before it quickly faded. "Besides, we both know it...can't..."

"Please. Don't say it," he begged. "I don't want to hear the words again...whether they are true or not."

"Of course," she agreed.

Cullen cleared his throat and stopped. He moved his arm away from his body for her to take. "May I at least be the one escorting you the rest of the way, Warden Commander?"

She smiled at him once more and linked her arm into his. He felt safe and secure at her side. Warm without the bulk of heavy armour he typically wore. She had to admit to herself that despite everything that was keeping them apart, he felt natural...familiar. But there would be no happy ending for her...or him. She knew that to think otherwise would be folly.

They continued to walk arm in arm towards the docks. She told him tales of her time traveling through Ferelden before the end of the blight. He spoke of the transition from the Kinloch Hold to Kirkwall's Gallows. He admitted his fears of its direction to her and begged her to remain vigilant during the years ahead. He could never see her trapped in a Circle once more – she was a woman who deserved to be free. She had paid her dues...all those years ago.

The walk that should have taken them less than an hour extended well into the early morning hours. Their slow steps lingering...neither truly wanted to part. Yet, when they reached the docks, she told him it was time. He would board the ferry to bring him back to the Gallows...she would return to her lodging, and then back to Amaranthine.

"I fear that I do not know if my path will ever lead me back here, Cullen," she said.

"I...I know," he stuttered. "It's been...more than overwhelming seeing you again. I...I'm not sure how to tell you goodbye."

She stood in front of him and looked up into his eyes.

"I...can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she replied.

"May I...kiss you?"

"Cullen...I'm not...I'm not sure," she protested.

"Placate me," he pleaded. "I need this."

She took a deep breath. And nodded.

He ran his fingers into her hair, resting his thumbs at her cheeks. She smiled timidly – just like she used to back in the Tower. As he leaned forward, their lips met softly. He felt her arms wrap around him and her warmth radiated. When he pulled back from the kiss, she didn't let go and nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. He moved his arms to hold her back and they stood in silence.

When they finally let go of each other, he clasped on of her hands and brought it up to his mouth. He kissed it softly as he looked into her eyes.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

She smiled.

"Goodbye Cullen," she said as he began to walk away towards the ferry.

He nodded at her and continued on. As he stepped on to the boat, he turned to face her. "It would break my heart if you didn't write."

"Agreed," she responded.

The ferry pulled away shortly after. She stood and watched it until she could no longer see it.

It was time to go.


End file.
